Vampire Shift
by Kanna Raimi
Summary: My take on The Kiera Series. Allen Walker is a police constable with an amazing gift, nothing can hide from his all seeing eyes. Will the sleepy town of Noah's Innocence be too much for him? Sometimes it's better to be blind and hidden; too bad for Allen, he's caught the attention of dangerous creatures. (Yullen) Disclaimer: I don't own ayman or The Kiera Series. Read & Review!
1. Chapter 1

My name is Allen Walker. I'm 21 years old and under the employment of the Vatican Police Department as a police constable. I have been an official police officer for all of 18 months. On completion of my initial training I was posted in a small town called Noah's Innocence. I heard rumors that the post was a difficult one to fill, but I would take any excuse to get away from my instructor at headquarters. Plus they did make me an attractive offer, free accommodation and the allowance of £50,000 a year.

When I told my fellow recruits that I had accepted the offer, some laughed nervously, stating that the force paid the wage annually as no one had stayed long enough to collect it. My shift pattern was a constant series of night shifts that started every night at 7 and ended at 7 the following morning. Looking back now, I can understand the raised eyebrows of my classmates, but at the time I didn't want to refuse the post.

I thought if I did, I would be viewed as inflexible buy my superiors and I had aspirations way beyond the rank of constable. Like me, most other recruits were young, and knowing that the town Noah's Innocence was pretty remote, I suspected they were more concerned about their social lives than their future careers.

After packing a suitcase, which consisted mainly of my smart new uniform and a deck of cards, I set off in my old burgundy VWVortex and headed from the dorm to the desolate town of Noah's Innocence. I remember the day clearly as I made my way by a series of deserted country lanes headed towards the town. A few miles out, the sky clouded over and it started to rain.

The day almost seemed to turn to night, as the rain lashed out against my windshield faster than my wipers could keep up. With my headlights on full blasts, I carefully navigated my way to the town. Several times I had to pull over, off the narrow roads, and park up by the entrance to some field to check the map I'd been given by Master Cross at the training academy.

I knew the town was remote, but it wasn't until I had tried to reach it that I noticed how isolated from the rest of the world it really was. It seemed to me that Noah's Innocence didn't want to be found. Realizing I was just spooking myself, I shook off any regrets I might be having, and carried on through the rain and gloom.

In an attempt to lighten my spirits, I turned on my car radio, hoping to find something I could sing along to. I settled for Trumpets by Jason Derulo. The road seemed to get narrower as I headed towards the town, which spread out in front of me like a horseshoe. Wiping the mist from my windshield with the back of my hand, I could see the sea and it looked black and angry as it crashed along the cliffs. As I near the town the radio began to hiss and spit with static until I lost the signal completely. I made the rest of my journey nervously humming under my breath.

I reach the town just before 5, but the sky was so dark that it seemed much later. Driving my car through the ragged streets, I peered up at the tired-looking buildings that lined each side of the road. There were a row of shops that had been shut down for the day, and the streets were deserted; I wondered how they stayed in business. Master Cross had said the room had been rented for me in an inn called "Noah's Ark", but I couldn't find it.

Over and over again, I drove up and down the same streets, the wind and and the rain hammering down on my poor car. Then, just ahead, I saw a lone figure shuffling along the pavement ahead of me. I slowed my car, bringing it to a halt. The engine rattled and rain bounced off its burgundy hood. Winding the window down, I rolled down the window and called out to the figure that walked stopped forward, a black hood pulled over its head.

"Excuse me ", I called out my breath creating tiny clouds in the cold.

The hunched figure stopped dead in its tracks, still not facing me.

I tried again, "Hello?"

Slowly, the figure turned on the spot, the hem of the long coat and scarf it wore trailing in the deep puddles that filled the cracked pavement. One gleaming green eye stared at me from beneath the hood, as the figure adjusted it's ridiculously long orange scarf. I shrank back in surprise at the sharp frown peering out of the shadows beneath the hood.

It was difficult for me to guess the man's age, as his face was well hidden in the shadows of the overly large hood. The corners of his thin chapped lips were twisted in what looked like a hateful snarl. But even though his face was thoroughly hidden, his eye was sharp and keen, shining a brilliant emerald from beneath his hood. He continued to glare at me and say nothing.

"I'm looking for a place called Noah's Ark," I said, inching the window closed so only the smallest of gaps was left for me to speak through.

Still glaring at me from beneath his hood, the stranger raised one calloused finger and placed it against his cracked lips. "Shhh!" he almost seemed to hiss. Then, lowering his head, he turned away and continued to shuffle forwards along the street, rain dripping from his scarf.

I closed the window and from the safety of my car, I sat and watched the stranger until he had disappeared into the gloom ahead. Once I was sure he had gone, I started my car again and crept forward. I reached the end of the street, slowed and looked left and right. I couldn't see him in either direction. It was like he had vanished.

Indicating right, I turned into yet another narrow, cobbled street, where the houses and shops stood crammed next to one another. It was then, I noticed that same hooded figure watching me from the darkness of a nearby shop doorway. Looking forward, with goose bumps crawling over my skin, I sped up.

It was just before 6 when I noticed a small side street that I hadn't seen before. Turning into it, my car bounced and lurched over the cobbled road until in the distance, I could just make out the glow of a blue lamp attached to the front of a white-washed building. Any anxiety I had felt earlier disappeared upon seeing it. I knew I'd found the police station where I had been posted to. They would be able to point me in the right direction of my lodgings, and it would give me a chance to meet with some of my colleagues before I started my first night shift the following evening.

Parking the car just outside, I pulled my jacket tight about my shoulders and ran towards the old, wooden door below the blue lamp. Pushing against it, I stumbled into the station and out of the howling wind and driving rain. I must have looked a right sight, my white hair matted in gray, wet streaks to my forehead and cheeks, my face pale with the cold. Topped with my unusual face tattoo, I'm sure I made quite the impression.

"Can I help you?" someone asked me.

Looking up, I could see a large front desk, covered in paper. Sitting behind it was a police officer. He had short, black hair, glasses falling off his face, and was clean-shaven. He looked vaguely chinese and was about 35 to 40 years-old. He was dressed loosely in his uniform and was glutting down a huge cup of coffee.

"Can I help you?" he asked again.

Straightening my hair and pulling it from my face, I gave my most charming smile and said, "I'm Allen."

He looked back at me as if he didn't have the slightest idea as to what I was talking about. Holding out my gloved hand for him to shake, I stepped towards the front counter and said, "I'm Allen Walker. The new recruit?"

Again he looked at me as if I were speaking in a foreign language. Lowering my hand, I added with narrowed eyes, "Vatican headquarters sent me. I'm to be stationed here, starting tomorrow night."

Then with a sudden look of recognition on his face, he stood up and came towards me. It was then I noticed he wasn't in full uniform at all, but was wearing a pair of jeans and pink slippers. He appeared to sway as he walked, as if he had no balance.

"Walker," he said, thumbing through some paperwork on the other side of the desk. "Walker. Allen. Here we go," he said, plucking my file from beneath a mountain of paperwork. Then, looking back at me, he said, "You know you're getting old when the new recruits look younger than your darling baby sister."

Then his whole demeanor changed and he slammed down the giant coffee mug. He turned with such loathing in his eyes and said, "Don't you even think about laying a head on my precious, adorable, oh so lovely baby sister! You hear me, you nasty octopus?!"

Shocked by his sudden hostility, I backed away slowly. "I don't know her and even if I did, I don't swing that way." He immediately calmed down, and smiled. Tilting his head to the left, he says, "Welcome to the team." Not seeing any noticeable hostility, I sighed in relief.

Noticing the three stripes on his shoulders, I asked, "Are you in charge here?" all the while hoping he wasn't.

Placing my file to one side, he smiled back at me and said, "Kind of, but not really. I'm Sergeant Lee – 'Komui' to my friends," and thrust out his hand. Taking it, he pumped my arm up and down until I thought it might just fall off. "We do have Chief Inspector Leverrier, but we don't see him much. He pops his head in from time to time and that's the way we like it. Don't want the boss nosing around," he said, winking at me as he sipped on his coffee.

Pushing the fringe from my eyes, I noticed Sergeant Lee was wearing a small pin in the shape of a crucifix. I thought this was a little odd as we'd had it instilled in us at training school that we were only to wear police insignia on our uniforms – nothing else, especially not anything that was religious or might cause offense.

Sergeant Lee saw me looking, and his fingers went straight to it. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "You're straight from the academy, where you've had your head crammed full of all the things you should and shouldn't do."

"No," I said, shaking my head, not wanting to offend my new sergeant within the first few moments of meeting him.

"Well, just between you and me, young lad," he said leaning over the counter towards me, his voice dropping to a whisper. "This little cross here will offer you more protection than any can of pepper spray, a baton, or a taser . Things are different in Noah's Innocence."

" Don't listen to the stupid old man," someone said from behind me. Spinning round, I saw another police officer step into the station out of the rain. His raincoat dripped water all over the floor, and it ran from the brim of his helmet. Taking it from his head, he wrung the rain out of his long navy hair. Unlike Sergeant Lee, this police officer was younger, no older than 27.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, taken aback by his sudden presence. He had navy blue eyes, a strong pointed chin, and a surprisingly oriental look about him.

" I said, take no notice of the fucking idiot,'" he smirked, looking over my shoulder at Sergeant Lee.

"Kanda show some manners," Lee said, but he didn't sound angry, it was as if it were a routine he shared with this officer.

Taking off his black raincoat and draping it over the desk, he turned to me and said, "I'm Kanda Yuu." Then frowning, he added, "The one who does all the damn work around here."

"You don't know the meaning of the word," Sergeant Lee scoffed, going back to his seat where he propped his slippered feet up onto his desk and sipped on his coffee.

"So you must be Constable Walker?" Kanda asked.

" Allen," I replied, raising my gloved hand to shake his. He ignored my extended hand with a smirk.

"You're short and pale," Kanda said, and I couldn't help but notice that he held my gaze just a little too long – long enough to make me feel uncomfortable. Looking away, I began to take a good look around.

I was immediately struck by the lack of professionalism Sergeant Lee showed, and it felt at odds with the almost military-style of policing instilled in me at the academy. The whole town was strangely biblical, obsessed with the story of Noah in particular.

"I thought you started your shift with us tomorrow night?" Kanda said, cutting into my thoughts. "That eager, huh," he grinned, and it seemed to light up his whole face.

"I can't find my new digs," I told him, slightly embarrassed.

"Where are you staying?" he asked boredly.

"Noah's Ark," I said, and I couldn't help but notice the knowing look that passed between Kanda and Sergeant Lee across the counter.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked, mildly suspicious.

Shaking his head, Sergeant Lee said, "No, there's nothing wrong. Kanda'll show you where it is." Throwing on his overcoat again and grabbing his helmet,Kanda headed outside while I followed. As I swung the police station door closed behind me, I could just see the top of Lee's head on the other side of the counter.

" Welcome to the god-forsaken town of Noah's Innocence, Allen Walker. Show up tomorrow night at seven for the start of your first vampire shift. "Not knowing what he meant, I let the door swing shut and I stepped out into the rain again.

"Is this piece of shit yours?" Kanda growled, looking at my old burgundy VWVortex. "Yeah, got a problem?" I snarled, feeling proud of my little wagon. "Nothing, soccer mom. It's in nice condition" Kanda grinned, going to the passenger side.

Opening my door, I got in. Throwing his helmet into the back, Kanda wedged himself into the front seat. His legs were so long that his knees seemed to rest just beneath his chest. Smiling to myself, I put the car into gear and we rumbled off up the street.

We sat in silence, and I felt uncomfortable. "So where is this Inn?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.

"It's a mile or so up the road from here. Just take a right at the top," he said boredly.

"So what's with the crucifix and all this stuff about starting my first 'vampire shift' tomorrow night?" I asked above the sound of the wipers as they squeaked back and forth in the rain.

Glancing sideways at me, Kanda said, "Look dammit, some strange things have happened here in the last few years or so, that's all."

"What do you mean by strange ?" I asked him, adjusting to the dark.

"Well,some of the new recruits that have been sent from headquarters have gone missing, we've also had our fair share of grave desecrations and murders for such a small ass town," Kanda said, glaring back into the night.

"What do you mean by _missing_ ?" I asked, feeling more intrigued than scared.

"Duh- they don't show up for work. One day they're here and the next they're fucking gone. Not even so much as a goddamn goodbye," Kanda explained.

"But why?" I asked, slowing down to steer the car around a rather sharp bend in the road.

"How the fuck would I know, maybe they weren't expecting so much damn paperwork,'" he shrugged.

"But you can't have _that_ much paperwork out here," I said. "It can't be that busy."

"You're right," he said. "We don't have a burglary problem, robbery problem, or even a loitering problem. But like I said, we do have a murder problem, and they create mountains of fucking paperwork."

Speeding up again, I asked, "So how many murders are we talking about?"

"Well if you exclude the 30 or so people that have gone _missing_, as no one really knows what's happened to them, we've had about 20 murders in the last 3 years or so.

"**20?**" I gasped, nearly crashing the car into a nearby hedge. "Some cities in the UK don't even have that amount in five years – let alone a small little town like this!"

"They started slow at first," he sighed. "The first year we had 3 murders and a couple of disappearances. In the second year we had 6 murders – but this year they've escalated like crazy."

"Are they connected?" I asked, still reeling from what he had just told me.

"The M.O. is the same in each case, if that's what you mean," he said.

"So you have a serial killer in Noah's Innocence?" I asked him, not being able to comprehend what he was telling me. How my colleagues had been dumb enough to turn down a posting like this was beyond me. Some officers could wait a lifetime before they came anywhere close to even getting a whiff of a serial killer case and here I was right in the middle of one, just days out of the academy.

"I don't think it's a fucking serial killer," Kanda said, narrowing his eyes at me.

"But you said the M.O. was the same in each murder," I excitedly reminded him.

"It is the same," he said, then added, "but there is more than one killer."

Gripping the steering wheel so tight that my gloves rip a liitle, I asked, "How can you be so sure?"

"There are always more than one set of prints at the scene and the…" he trailed off.

"And what?" I asked, almost ready to pee in my pants.

"Forensics say the tooth marks come from different sets of teeth," he sighed.

"Tooth marks?" I almost screeched.

"Yeah, tooth marks," Kanda said in a grim tone. "At first we thought that they were the tooth marks of an animal because -"

Kanda was suddenly interrupted as the airwaves radio that was attached to his coat began to talk in the sound of Sergeant Lee's voice.

"Echo One to Echo Three, receiving?" and his voice came through, mixed with the sound of static.

Speaking into the radio, Kanda said, "Go ahead, baka – what you got?"

"I hate to be the one to tell you this," Lee's voice crackled back over the radio, "but Farmer Chaoji reckons his dog has just come across the remains of the Blake kid who went missing a couple of days ago."

Taking a deep breath, Kanda seemed to placate himself, then said into the radio, "Tch, baka, I'll make my way there." Then looking at me he said, "You starting your duties a night early?" "You bet," I told him, my stomach beginning to buzz with nerves and excitement. "Okay then," Kanda smiled, "Welcome to your first vampire shift."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello long time no see! I've finished editing the next chapter just for you guys. I tried to get Kanda's personality as close to realistic as I could get without ruining the sappy chemistry I'm trying to recreate.**

**Disclaimer: Just a friendly reminder that i own neither or The Kierra Series. This is just my fusion of them both. The plot changes with the introduction of new characters, so if you're a fan of the Kierra Series don't be alarmed.**

Kanda directed me along a narrow coastal road, and above the sound of the rain and the wind, I could hear those black waves crashing into the cliffs below. At one point, a gust of wind took hold of my little van, and I felt the pull of the back wheels as they headed towards the cliff edge.

Gasping, I yanked on the steering wheel and straightened the van. Kanda sat beside me and said nothing, his face pale and serious. "Stupid Moyashi can't even fucking drive!" I chose to ignore him, and focus on the road.

As we cleared the coastal road, Kanda pointed in the direction of a narrow track and I followed it. At the top, there was a gate which led into a wheat field. Killing the engine but keeping the headlights on, we climbed from the car. Waiting at the gate for us was a burly man with a strong build. He stood up straight and had bandaged hands. With a metal hairband pulled so far back, his face appeared much rounder than it probably was.

"Evening, Constable," the man said.

"Why in the hell did you call us, Chaoji?," Kanda asked, as the two men curtly nodded at each other. Chaoji glanced over at me with a confused expression. His face was innocent and covered in bruises. Without taking his eyes off me, he said to Kanda, "Who's the girl?"

"This is Constable Walker," Kanda said. "As girly as he seems, file says he's a boy. A new recruit, fresh out of the box."

"The white hair and tattoo aren't regulation, are they?" Chaoji asked, and as he spoke I could see that he was genuinely curious, but his questions still ticked me off. "It's natural, I'm 5'9 and all other information is classified."

"Where's the body?" Kanda asked, pulling a flashlight from his utility belt and switching it on.

"Up beyond that treeline," Chaoji said, waving his stick in the general direction of a crop of trees that lined his fields. "I'm warning you though, the kid don't look pretty."

Flashing his flashlight towards the trees, Kanda said, "You wait here, Chaoji." Then looking back at me, he said, "Ready?"

Pulling the collar of my jacket around my throat, I nodded. I didn't know if I was ready or not. I hadn't seen a real dead body in a long time – only pictures of them from crime scenes shown to us at training school. Following Kanda, I made my way across the fields towards the trees.

The earth was sodden, and my boots squelched in the mud. At one point, my foot got stuck and I thought I might just lose my shoe. Yanking me free, Kanda took me by the arm and dragged me across the field.

Stepping beneath the canopy of trees, the rain seemed to ease, trapped by the leaves above. Shining his flashlight at the ground ahead of us, Kanda went deeper into the crop of trees. It was eerily quiet and I could hear the sound of my own heart thumping in my ears. Without warning, Kanda dashed ahead, shouting over his shoulder, "Over here!"

I followed, and as I did, I could just make out the shape of something lying faceup in the damp undergrowth beneath the trees. From a distance it looked like a pile of rags, but as I got nearer, I could see that it was the body of a small boy. He was dressed in green shorts and an orange T-shirt which had been ripped open down the front. Kanda waved the flashlightlight up and down the body of the boy.

His hair was unevenly cut and his face looked white and bloated but it wasn't that which sickened me; it was the look of fear forever engraved upon his small face. I had never seen the look of such terror before, and I shivered at the thought of what his attacker must have looked like.

Bending down, Kanda got onto all fours, and for a moment, blocked my view of the boy. He seemed to be examining him. "Timothy Hearst, age 9."

"How can you be so sure?" I asked, squatting down beside him.

"Had dealings with the boy before," Kanda said. "Nothing serious – just petty thefts and being a general pain in the ass, that's all."

It was then, as I knelt beside Kanda, that I saw the injuries to Timothy Hearst's forehead – or what was left of it. A giant hole sat in the center of his forehead, ripped and torn away in jagged chunks.

Covering my mouth with my hands, I lurched to one side, desperate not to be sick on my first night and definitely not in front of Kanda. I didn't want him to think I was weak, any more than he already did.

"Are you okay, ?" Kanda asked, looking at me. I could see a sliver of concern in his narrowed eyes.

"Sure," I said, swallowing hard to push away the bile that was burning the back of my throat.

"You can leave and come back …" Kanda started and gently touched my shoulder.

I got excited at the amount of compassion Kanda was showing, and relished his warmth on my shoulder for a moment. Quickly coming to my senses, I knocked it away and stood up. "I believe he died about three days ago," I said, trying to regain my composure and sound like a police officer instead of some emotional wreck.

"How the fuck would _you_ know that?!" Kanda asked me. And by the tone of his voice, he didn't take kindly to fakes. I'd have to explain and fully convince him.

"See those blisters,'" I said, pointing to the yellowing bubbles on the boy's arms and legs.

"What about them?" Kanda asked.

"Notice how the body is swollen and bloated?" I asked him.

"So?" Kanda came back at me. "And that fluid which has leaked from his mouth, nose, and

ears?" "What you trying to say?" Kanda asked.

"They're all things that happen to a body about three days after death," I told him. "Although I could be a day out, it all depends on how warm the weather has been."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Kanda asked, looking at me. "The whole process of the body bloating like that can be sped up, depending on how hot the environment is," I told him.

Smiling at me he said, "Where did you learn all that stuff?"

"My dad used to be a pathologist," I told him.

"Used to be?" he asked. "He died recently – cancer," I said. "Sorry to hear that."

"Me too," I said, looking down at the mutilated boy stretched out before us. "He saved me; took me in off the streets. My dad was always telling me all kinds of weird stuff about bodies and things. It was kind of gruesome but it always fascinated me."

"What else can you see, Sherlock?" Kanda said, smirking.

Taking the flashlight from him, I cast light over the scene. "The boy was brought or carried here," I said.

"How can you tell?" Kanda asked with a frown.

"Look at his shoes," I told him. "There's no mud. If he walked here, there'd have to be mud, right?"

"I guess," Kanda grumbled.

"But wait a minute," I whispered, kneeling down again and checking the ground around the boy's body. I traced the tips of my fingers over the earth and dead leaves then inspected the boy. "That doesn't make sense," I said.

"What doesn't?" Kanda asked, sounding confused.

"The boy was murdered here – look, you can see the ground is spattered with his blood."

"So what's the problem?" "Apart from the boy, there were three others," I told him. "All of them were adults. Two were male, the third was female. The first male was about 6'2, the second shorter, about 5'10. He smoked Marlboro cigarettes, Lights in fact. But he came before the others. He had been waiting for them, I guess anywhere between 1 and 2 hours. The female was about 5'6 and had black hair which was dyed blonde."

"Are you making all this shit up?" Kanda growled from behind me. "You know, just because you're new to the job, you don't have to try and impress me."

"Shhh," I said, not taking my eyes off the ground. "But there's something wrong."

"What?" he started to sound impatient.

"They can't all have been carried here," I said, more to myself than him. "I can understand them carrying the victim here, but…" "But what?" Kanda hissed from behind me, and he sounded pissed off.

"Look, you can see the ground around the body is covered with footprints," I said. "Yeah, so?" Kanda said, leaning over my shoulder. "Well, there are no footprints leading to or from the body," I told him. "And your point is?" Kanda asked. "So how did the killers get here if they didn't walk?" I said, sounding exasperated. "Did they fly?" Then, before Kanda or even I could answer my own question, there was the sound of people approaching us from the distance.

"Who's there?" Kanda called out, sounding irritated. "It's just me and Constable Reever."

Aiming Kanda's flashlight in the direction of the voice, I could just make out two figures approaching us. As they drew nearer, I could see one of them was Sergeant Komui by the way he swayed and the other I guessed was Constable Reever. He was tall and lean, with spiked blonde hair.

He looked slightly older than Komui and I guessed he was about 40-ish. Both Komui and Reever had flashlights, the lights bouncing off the trees. Reaching us, Sergeant Komui leaned over the body of the boy and showered him with flashlight light. "Jesus wept!" he gasped, kissing the tiny crucifix pinned to his tie.

"It looks like we've got ourselves another one," Reever groaned, popping a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. "I don't think you should be smoking here," I said before I could stop myself. Raising an eyebrow with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, Constable Reever looked at me and said, "And you are?" Before I could answer, Komui had cut in and said, "This is Allen Walker, our new recruit."

Drawing on the end of his cigarette, Reever smiled at me and asked, "Do you have a problem with me smoking?" Meeting his stare, I said, "No, but I just don't think you should be smoking here – after all it is a crime scene. At training school -" "…they fill your head with crap," Reever cut in. "This is the real world, sweetheart." I was just about to tell him that I wasn't his sweetheart when Kanda said, "Allen says that there was three of them and that the boy has been here at least three days."

I don't think Kanda said this to embarrass me, I think he really was impressed with what I had told him. Blowing smoke out of his nostrils, Reever laughed and said, "Looks like we got a right little Miss Marple this time around." Eyeing Reever, Sergeant Komui said, "Okay, Reever that's enough. Let's hear what the boy's got to say."

At first I didn't say anything, fearing Reever would start ragging on me again. I know that I'd only just met him, but I already disliked the guy. "Go on, Allen, tell them what you told me," Kanda said, and he sounded supportive, like a good friend would. "Go on, Walker," Sergeant Komui urged. "You're with friends here." So, pointing the flashlight back at the body of Henry Blake, I crouched down and started to point out the footprints, blisters, and fluid which had come from the boy's mouth, nose, and ears.

Before I'd finished, Reever had started to spray laughter into the darkness. "What a bunch of horseshit!" he cried. "I don't know what they've been teaching you at training school but whatever it is, you ain't in no episode of _CSI_." Standing, I looked pleadingly at Kanda, face red with embarrassment, wishing I hadn't said anything. When Reever had stopped laughing, he flicked his cigarette away into a nearby bush and Sergeant Komui stepped towards me cautiously.

"I admire your enthusiasm, Allen, but Reever is right, this isn't a T.V. program, this is real life. Being a police officer in the real world isn't like what you've been watching on T.V." Although Komui was trying to comfort me, I couldn't help but feel he was patronizing me. "I haven't been watching -" I started.

"Allen, this is a well-walked route by hikers and ramblers. Those footprints could have been left here by anyone. So what if there aren't any tracks leading to and from the murder scene? As far as we know, it could have been a really hot day and the earth could've been as dry as a bone." I wanted to tell him that in the cool shade of the trees, it was very unlikely that the ground would've been rock-hard, but I knew there was little point.

He didn't want some newbie coming into his town and telling him how to do his job. So, however much it pained me, I kept quiet. I was damp from the rain and cold. Not being able to hide my shivers any longer, Kanda approached me, and threw his coat around my shoulders, he said, "Go home moyashi. I'll take you." Without any resistance, I let Kanda guide me away from the mutilated body of the boy. As I went, I looked back to see Reever lighting up another cigarette.

Looking at me, he smirked and blew a cloud of smoke up into the night. I watched the smoke rise upwards, and as it dispersed, I noticed something. Aiming Kanda's flashlight up into the trees, I could see the branches above the boy were snapped and broken as if someone or something had crashed through them.

Turning away, I let Kanda lead me to my car. Ten minutes later, I was pulling up outside the Noah's Ark. "Is this it?" I asked, looking out of the window at the weary-looking building. It almost seemed to lean to the right, as if at any moment it was going to topple over. The roof was thatched and the windows were lattice in design. Wild ivy climbed over the front of the Inn and up across the roof like a giant, green claw. The windows glowed orange from within and a sign which read The Noah's Ark wailed back and forth in the wind.

Swinging open the passenger door, Kanda went to climb out, but then stopped. Looking back at me he said, "You weren't making that stuff up back there, were you?" "No," I replied in annoyance. "So how did you figure it all out?" he asked, staring at me again and making me feel uncomfortable.

"How did you know how tall they were, the fact that one of them had arrived before the others, his brand of cigarettes, and that the female had black hair which she had dyed blonde? You must have been guessing some of that." "I wasn't guessing," I told him. "What then? Are you some kind of psychic?" and he half-laughed. "It doesn't matter," I told him, climbing from the car.

Putting his helmet onto his head and pulling the collar of his police coat up about his neck, he said, "So long, Allen Walker. I'll see you tomorrow night at seven." Then turning towards the Inn, just wanting to get out of the rain, I stopped. Seeing as I now knew where the Inn was, I should really have offered him a lift back to the police station. But as I turned back towards him, I was surprised to see that he had already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there darlings! This is a short chapter, so in exchange I will post 2 chapters today! yes you heard me 2 chapters!**

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><p>Carrying the little belongings that I'd brought with me, I went into the Inn.<p>

A crescent-shaped bar stood along the far wall. The Inn wasn't very busy, and those that huddled around the small fire and the tables fell into a hushed silence and looked at me. As I crossed the floor to the bar, I could feel their eyes staring at me.

It was so quiet that I could hear the wood snapping and crackling as it burnt in the fireplace. I looked across at it and noticed that someone had engraved a five-pointed star into the plaster above the fireplace. I immediately felt subconscious of my scar, and adjusted my bangs to hide my forehead.

Then in the far corner, I noticed a figure. He sat alone at a table which was lit with a candle and he warmed a glass of whiskey in his hand. The male had a hood pulled so low over his head that it concealed his face. Although I couldn't see his eyes, I knew he was watching me.

Trying not to make eye contact with those gathered in the Inn, I reached the bar. I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life, and I wondered why Master Cross had decided to rent me a room in such a godforsaken place.

When I thought I couldn't bear it any longer and was just about to pick up my case and run from the place, a tall ghostly-looking woman appeared from a small office behind the bar. White lengths of luscious hair protruded from her head, and her face was pale and extremely smooth. She looked like a ghost or an albino mermaid.

"Can I… help you?" she asked, her voice sounding melodious but broken.

"I have a room booked…" I started.

"Name?" the old woman sighed, thumbing through a dusty-looking ledger behind the bar.

"Walker," I said. "Allen Walker."

The woman sniffed, and taking a key from a series of hooks on the wall behind her, she placed it on the bar and said, "Room… number two."

Taking the key, I said "Thank -"

"Top of the stairs... and turn right," the old woman cut over me. "Breakfast is between six and seven... and dinner between eight and ten."

Looking at my wristwatch, I could see it had just gone ten. "I don't suppose there's any chance of something to eat?" I asked her.

"Dinner is between eight and ten," she repeated without looking up at me.

"I know, but it's only just a couple of minutes past, so I was wondering -" I began.

"Between eight and ten," the old woman sighed again, but this time she looked up at me. Her eyes were a milky-blue and clouded by cataracts.

Shrugging my shoulders, as if I didn't really care, I picked up my case and as I did, I

noticed something rather odd. All the way along the old oak beams that supported the bar, someone had tied reams of garlic bulbs. There were hundreds – no thousands of them. And as I looked up, I could see they hung from the ceiling, at the back of the Inn door and walls.

"What's with the garlic?" I said, turning towards the odd woman, but she had disappeared back into her tiny office. Turning my back on all those watchful eyes, I made my way up the stairs to my room. Holding onto my case, I fumbled with the key as I slipped it into the lock.

Hearing it click, I pushed the door open and shut it behind me. The room was in darkness, so I ran my fingers blindly along the wall in search of the light switch. Finding it, I flipped it on, and the room lit up with a dim bulb that hung from the centre of the ceiling.

I looked around my new home and thought I understood why none of the other recruits had stayed a full year in this place.

There was a narrow-looking bed wedged in the far corner, an old fashioned looking wardrobe, and a desk with a lamp. The carpet looked threadbare, and the walls were a dingy grey colour.

There was a small bathroom, which had a toilet and bath. I didn't know how much headquarters were paying the old woman downstairs, but whatever it was, it was far too much.

Placing my case onto the bed, I went to the bathroom and ran myself a bath. While it was running, I unpacked my stuff and hung it in the wardrobe.

When I was all fixed up, I got undressed and climbed into the hot water. Closing my eyes, I lent my head back against the rim of the bath. I thought about everything that had happened since arriving at Noah's Innocence and my mind soon wandered to Kanda Yuu.

Out of everyone that I had met so far, he seemed the nicest. He had a brutal but honest way about him, and I was grateful that he took my side over that of Reever, who seemed like a real prick.

Loved himself, too, by the way he was acting all cocky. Sergeant Komui, I was still to make up my mind about. He seemed set in his ways and I guessed he didn't want some young cop coming in and telling him how to run things.

But I wasn't trying to do that. I didn't care that he wanted to lounge around the police station all night in his slippers, drinking coffee, or his clear over attachment to his little sister. But what did trouble me was his apparent disregard for properly investigating a crime scene. And not any old crime scene. That was the murder of an eight-year-old child and he was letting that idiot Reever smoke and trample all over it.

If only they'd taken the time to study it then they would have seen the things that I had. It wasn't magic – the clues were there if you looked for them. I'd always been like that.

My father had called it my _gift_ – but it wasn't really – I just had a knack of noticing things that others seemed unable to see. I saw stuff that other people missed. But it wasn't magic and it wasn't a _gift_, I called it _**seeing**_.

But what about Kanda? What could I see about him? Almost nothing. He was like a blank sheet of paper. Apart from his obvious good looks and oriental heritage, it was the fact that he was a mystery that I found so attractive.

Sinking beneath the hot water, images of the Hearst boy lying dead with his throat ripped out rippled across the front of my mind. There were two things that troubled me.

My father had often told me that you could tell a lot from a crime scene by the pattern of blood left behind. But that was the problem – there was very little blood for such a gaping wound.

The brachiocephalic artery had been ripped apart and I remembered my father telling me once how he had worked on a murder where the victim had had their throat cut. Their life blood had pumped away through the wound in that particular artery.

How then had there been so little blood at the murder scene of the Hearst boy? Where had all the blood gone? It was almost as if it had been siphoned off.

And what about the lack of footprints leading to and from the scene? I didn't buy Komui's theory about the ground being too dry for any prints to be left. If prints could be lifted from carpets and lino floors, they could be seen in earth – however dry.

But how had the killers got to the scene? The only clue was the hole made in the trees above, where the branches had been broken and smashed. It was almost as if someone or something had entered the crime scene from above. But that would be impossible, right? _Right!?_

As I tried to examine these theories inside my head, I was startled by the sound of someone outside my bedroom door.

Leaping from the bath, I wrapped a towel around my waist and went into the bedroom. Tiptoeing to the door, I listened to the rustling sound. Screwing up my eyes, I could see a shadow fleeting back and forth in the gap beneath my door.

Reaching out for the deadbolt that I'd left unlocked, I called out, "Who's there?"

There was silence.

"What do you want?"

Then I heard the sound of footsteps rushing away. Holding the towel tight about me, I yanked open the door and peered along the landing. And as I did, I caught the last fleeting glimpse of a shadow disappearing down the stairs.

My instincts told me to run after them, to find out who it had been. But with nothing on except the bath towel, I reluctantly stepped back into my room, and as I did, I noticed a small white envelope tacked to the door.

Removing it, I went back inside. Across the front of the envelope someone had scribbled _Allen_. Sitting on my bed, I opened it and a small silver crucifix fell out into my hand. Placing it on the desk beside my bed, I went back to the envelope.

Studying it, my heart skipped a beat, as I could see from looking at it, that the person I'd seen sitting in the bar with their face hidden behind the hood, was the person responsible for leaving me the crucifix.


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter reveals a little more about Allen and his skill set. Next chapter the real action starts!**

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><p>I woke early, just before six. I didn't want to miss breakfast, like I'd missed dinner the night before. The owner of the Inn seemed particularly strict on the rules surrounding meal times.<p>

As I pulled on a black turtleneck, joggers, and my arched sneakers, my stomach groaned. It was then I realized I hadn't eaten anything since before leaving my home in Birmingham the day before.

As I made my way down to the dining area, I switched on my iPhone 5. I scrolled through my contact list, until I came across _Master Cross_. I pressed the call button, but all I got back was an unobtainable tone. As I reached the dining area, I noticed the signal bar on my phone was red, indicating that it was unable to find a signal.

Putting the phone in my pocket, I was frustrated that I couldn't get hold of Master Cross. I wanted to beg him to find me some better accommodations. The odd woman that I'd spoken with the night before glided over to my table in a skin-tight, thigh-length white dress.

My table alone had been laid with a bowl, plate, and a mug. Apart from me, the small eating area was deserted.

"Tea... or coffee?" the old woman mumbled, not looking up from a small pad she held in her pale, thin hands.

"Good morning," I smiled, hoping to get off on a better footing with her than I had the night before.

"Tea or coffee?" the woman asked again, and her eyes met mine with her vacant stare.

"Coffee, please," I told her, trying to keep up my smile.

"Bacon and eggs?" the woman asked, the pen poised over her note pad.

"And toast too please."I was hungry, and would have ordered more but I wanted to go for a run and I didn't want to be bloated out with a full stomach.

"Bacon... eggs… toast," the woman said, turning away and gliding towards the kitchen.

The dining area, like the bar, was decorated with cloves of garlic, but with one difference. Along the far wall was a small coffee table that was covered with a white lace cloth. On top were an arrangement of crucifixes and small bottles of water. With a black marker pen, someone had written across each bottle the words _Holy Water_.

Smiling to myself, I wasn't superstitious at all, I got up from my seat and crossed over to the table. The crucifixes were identical to the one that had been left for me the night before. Picking up one of the tiny bottles of water, I heard the old woman speak to me as she shuffled towards my table with my plate of bacon, eggs, and toast.

"They're for sale... if you want one." she said, gently placing the plate on the table.

Putting the little bottle of holy water back with the others, I crossed back to my table and sat down.

"Why would I want to buy a bottle of holy water?" I asked her, and took a bite of the toast.

"For protection," she said easily, pouring a cup of coffee.

"Protection from what?" I asked, popping some eggs in my mouth.

Glancing back over her shoulder as if she were scared that someone might be eavesdropping, she lent in towards me and whispered, "From... the vampires," and her breath smelt like fresh toothpaste and felt cool against my face.

Looking straight back at her, I said, "I don't believe in vampires."

"That's what the others said... when I tried to warn them," she hushed and snatched another quick look over her shoulder.

"Who?" I asked, sipping my coffee.

"The other ones," she sighed, starting to sound impatient. "The other police officers who came here before you."

Looking into her milky-blue eyes I asked, "Do you know what happened to them?"

"They..." she started but was cut off by a gruff sounding voice from the other side of the room.

"That's enough, Hevlaska!" the voice said, and I looked up to see a buff long haired man come sashaying into the dining area. He wore a white shirt with no sleeves and buttons trailing down to his white apron that was pristine but worn down with age. His cheeks were flushed red and his braids were dyed pink. Although his glasses were fogged, I could clearly see the anger and frustration written on his forehead.

"The boy... has a right to know!" the pale woman, now identified as Hevlaska, sighed back at him.

"There's nothing for him to know!" her coworker snapped back. Then crossing towards the table with the bottles of holy water and crucifixes, he added, "and how many times have I asked you to get rid of all this bloody nonsense?"

"You will mind your tone, Jerry," Hevlaska hissed softly. "This is my Inn, it ain't yours yet."

"But you're scaring away all the customers," he told her, his temper fading. Jerry placed his hand on his hip and as he pouted I could see the lines of worry deeply engraved into the corner of his eyes.

"It's not me that's scaring them off," she snapped at him, with a ferocity I had not thought her capable. "It's those things, those creatures!"

Jerry saw me staring at both of them as they argued in front of me. With a fake smile stretched across his face, he came towards me and said, "I'm sorry about my sister, don't be put off by what she says. It would be a shame to lose one as cute as you."

Munching on the last of the toast, I smiled and said, "Thanks but there's no need to worry about me, I'm not easily spooked."

Hearing this, Hevlaska glided towards me and cupping my face she sighed wistfully, "You will be."

Taking his sister by the arm, he sighed as he escorted her from the room and back into the kitchen. Within moments, he had returned and came to clear away my empty plate and mug.

"So what is all this stuff about vampires?" I asked him flirtatiously. I learned early to use my looks like I would a trap, with precision and efficiency. Thanks _Cross_, one for you.

"Just stories," he said, checking me out. I pouted, and his mouth dropped.

"Okay, the town has had more than its fair share of strange happenings, but I don't agree with all this scaremongering... It was good for business at first. People came from all over to visit the town, believing it to be infested with vampires. We did the Inn up as you can see, and we even did a roaring trade in those little crosses and bottles of water; but it was just a laugh, you know to attract the tourists," he winked as he told me.

"So what went wrong?" I asked him, going all doe-eyed.

"More and more murders started to happen. People started to go missing and then there was the grave robbing," he said, sitting across from me.

"Grave robbing?"

"Yeah, but it was more than that," he said and his voice dropped to a whisper. "The bodies of those poor murdered souls were being dug up and stolen."

"By whom?" I asked him, leaning forward and gently grabbing his arm.

"Greedy freaks, that's who," he spat. "The whole thing just started to get out of hand. People were making a lot of money, us included, off the back of the rumours being spread about the vampires. But people got bored or scared of Noahs Innocence, and just stopped coming. The guest houses started to empty, the restaurants had no bookings, and the Highway became deserted. So the incidents just got more and more bizarre, and I reckon it was all down to some of the locals, hoping that they could entice people back by strange evil-doings and stories. Everybody likes a good scare, don't they?"

"Indeed," I said, moving my free hand to my mouth, appearing scandalized. "But digging up the bodies of murder victims seems a bit extreme."

"Not if you've got mouths to feed and a business to keep going," he said. "Folks will do the strangest things to survive."

"But what about these murders?" I asked him, interested to see what his view was. Like me, he hadn't been hooked on the whole vampire thing.

"Undoubtedly there is a murderer in our midst," he said, and again his voice had dropped to a whisper, and he leaned forward towards me. "But I reckon all this attention is just encouraging him, getting him all excited like."

I didn't tell him about the three sets of tracks that I had found by Timothy Hearst's body; I let him continue to believe that the murders were being committed by just the one killer.

"What do you mean by _excited_?" I asked shifting til we were an inch apart.

"These serial killers love all the attention they get from the media, don't they," he said more as a statement than a question.

"They love it when the newspapers give 'em a name like 'The Ripper' or 'The Black Panther', makes them feel all important like, when really, they're nothing but murderers," he said stroking my hand, still laid gently on his arm.

"So do _you_ have any ideas?" I asked him with a flirtatious giggle.

"About what, exactly?" he asked with a smirk.

"Who this serial killer might be?" I said, tilting my head and smiling.

Staring at my somewhat exposed neck, Jerry swallowed, "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question? After all, you're the police officer aren't you?"

Getting up from my seat gently, I said teasingly, "I'll work on it for you."

"You make sure you do, pretty boy," he said as I reached the door.

Looking back at him with my eyelids lowered, I said, "I'm sure Sergeant Murphy is doing his best. I'm just the help" But in my heart, I doubted that he was.

As the door closed I heard Jerry's wistful sigh, and knew if I ever needed someone Jerry was hooked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sooo, I had someone nagging me all week to update so I will. But don't get spoiled cuz this is the last time. **  
><strong>As promised the pace pics up a bit here. Chapter 7 is where the real action begins, so be patient cuz we're almost there.<strong>

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><p>The morning was overcast and dreary looking, but at least the rain from the night before had stopped. I didn't know the area at all, and I thought I would spend the morning getting to know it.<p>

My first official night shift started at seven, and I wanted to get a feel for the place and its people before I started policing it and them. If I were going to be successful in my new post, I would have to know my patch.

Heading back in the direction that Kanda had brought me the night before, I started a slow jog. There were no pavements and I had to keep to the side of the road. In some places the undergrowth was so overgrown, I had to run further out into the road.

It wasn't as if I were putting myself in danger, as the roads seemed deserted. Not one car or person had passed me in the twenty minutes or so that it had taken me to run all the way from the Inn to the outskirts of town.

Slowing down, I looked left then right, trying to decide on which way to go. Then looking over my shoulder in the direction that I'd come, my stomach tightened and my heart sped up as I saw the hooded figure from the previous night.

He was cycling towards me, his face hidden by the same hoodie and scarf he'd worn before. Turning front again, I turned left, wondering if he would follow me. I hadn't gone very far when I glanced back again, and to my surprise saw him turn into the narrow road that I had taken.

I tried to tell myself that perhaps it was just coincidence that he was cycling the same stretch of road that I'd chosen to jog along. But who was I trying to kid? He was following me. After all, I knew it had been him who had left that crucifix tacked to my door. But why? Perhaps I should ask him?

Slowing to a standstill in the middle of the road, I turned around, and with my hands folded over my chest, I faced the oncoming hooded cyclist. Then seeing that I had stopped running, he stopped cycling. There was a long moment that seemed to stretch out forever as I stared at him and he stared back at me from beneath his hood.

Turning my back on him, I started to run again, this time picking up my speed. After a short time I looked back, only to find that he had started cycling again towards me. I slowed and so did he, always careful to keep a good amount of distance between us. What did this guy want? I wondered. And why wouldn't he show me his face?

Again I stopped running and turned to face him. As I suspected he would, the cyclist stopped, and just sat and watched me. I sighed in exasperation.

"What do you want?" I called out, and my voice sounded echoey as it travelled across the empty fields on either side of the road. "How do you know my name?"

The hooded guy said nothing, but just sat on his bike and looked at me from beneath his hood. Then without warning, I ran as fast as I could towards him. He turned his bike around in the road and pedaled as fast as he could away from me.

Knowing that I could never catch him, I slowed, doubled up gasping for breath. Once I had stopped, so did the cyclist ahead of me. Turning his bike again in the road, he sat and watched me.

Narrowing my eyes as I drew in lungfuls of oxygen, I shouted as loud as I could, "Why did you leave me that crucifix?"

The cyclist, whoever he was, didn't respond, he just sat motionless on his bike.

"I know it was you!" I yelled at him. Turning, I started to run again. Okay, I thought. If he wanted to play games, I could play along. Ahead there was a bend in the road, and running as fast as I could, I raced towards it. I rounded the bend and saw that it opened out into a wide open area of wild grass and sand, which led down through the cliffs and towards the cove.

Off to the right was an outcrop of rocks. Diving behind them, I lay flat against the ground. From my hiding place, I could hear the sea crashing against the shore in the distance, and the sound of seagulls as they squawked overhead.

Peering around the rocks, I watched as the cyclist rode his bike onto the open area. He stopped, and looked from left to right, his hood never moving, not offering the smallest glimpse of who was beneath it.

After a few seconds, he rode forward and headed towards the rocks. As he drew nearer, I could see that his hands were covered with finger-less gloves, and apart from the dark black hoodie and orange scarf, he wore grey jeans and sneakers.

There was a chill in the air, but I found it odd that he was so snugly wrapped up and wearing gloves. It was as if he didn't want to show any more of his skin than necessary.

Squatting on all fours, I waited for him to draw level with the rocks. When he was almost on top of me, I sprang from my hiding place and made a desperate grab for his handlebars.

I managed to get hold of one before he twisted them away and out of reach. Holding on as best I could, the bike wobbled and the cyclist steadied himself by slamming both of his feet down into the sand.

"Who are you?" I hollered at him, his head lowered so I couldn't see beneath his hood. "Tell me who you are!" I demanded.

Without so much as a murmur, he rolled the bike backwards, dragging me along with him. Losing my footing, I fell forward, letting go of the handlebar. As I went down, I caught my wrist on one of the bike pedals, tearing the skin from my wrist.

Crying out in pain, I rolled into the sand and cradled my bleeding arm. Seeing that he had cast me loose, he pedalled as fast and as hard as he could away from me and down the narrow lane towards the cove.

"Come back!" I yelled after him, but he was soon gone, disappearing amongst the rocks and cliffs. Rolling onto my back, I gripped my bleeding wrist in an attempt to stop the flow of blood.

It oozed through my fingers, in red sticky rivulets and for just the briefest of moments, I felt dizzy and I didn't even have time to wonder if I'd pass out, before the world faded to black.

"Are you alright Moyashi?" I heard a familiar voice say.

Opening my eyes, I looked up to see Kanda standing over me, a concerned look etched across his face. "What happened?"

"I fell over," I said, struggling to get to my feet.

"Get over here," Kanda grumbled, offering me his hand to help me up. It was then that he saw the blood flowing through my fingers and he almost seemed to flinch in horror.

"What's wrong?" I asked, getting myself to my feet. Again I couldn't help but notice that he seemed unable to take his eyes off the blood that now ran up my wrist towards my forearm and dribbled from the tips of my fingers. The color had drained from his face and he looked suddenly unwell.

"Are _you_ okay?" I asked him, and he took a step backwards.

Continuing to stare at my bleeding wrist, Kanda said, "I'm not very… comfortable around blood."

"You're meant to be a cop," I winced in pain.

Kanda seemed to go into a trance, as he continued staring at my wrist.

"Well don't just stand there," I demanded weakly. "Give me a hand."

Then shaking his head, as if coming out of a trance, Kanda said, "Yeah. Sure." Then pulling his sweatshirt from over his head, he wrapped it tightly around my arm. I noticed how careful he was not to get any of my blood on him.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked him, as he knotted the sleeves of his sweatshirt around my arm like a makeshift bandage.

"I could ask the same of you," he said, eyeing me.

"I was taking a run," I told him. "That was until I started to be followed."

"Followed?" he asked, sounding alarmed. "By who?"

"I don't know," I said. "He had his face covered. But he left me a crucifix outside my room last night."

"A crucifix?" Kanda asked. "Why?"

"I don't know that either." I told him.

"Where is he now?"

"Cycled off down there after knocking me to the ground," I said, pointing in the direction of the rugged path. "Where did you come from?"

"That way," Kanda said, nodding in the direction that I had been pointing.

"You must have passed him then," I told him. "He was on a bike."

Shaking his head hesitantly, Kanda said, "No one passed me on a bike."

"Are you sure?" I asked, feeling confused.

"Che. Yea I'm sure," he said. "Let's get you back to the Inn, before you bleed to death."

"You never said what you were doing way out here," I reminded him. I admit it; I was suspicious.

"Oh," Kanda smirked, "I often drive out here, park up and take in the sea."

"Where's your bike?"

"Over there, on a piece of flat," he said, pointing beyond the rocks. "There's a narrow road, but you can get a car up here if you're careful." Then wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he led me back down the path.


End file.
